


on love: longing

by labocat



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Difference, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, and all that implies, bittersweet angst, canon-compliant for the most part, takes place during ep 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/pseuds/labocat
Summary: Unable to grasp agape, Yuri tries another tactic to try and win Victor back over to his side so that they can leave this whole thing behind and return to Russia. Like it should have been from the beginning.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [derogatory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/derogatory/gifts).



“Yurio, you need a clearer image of _agape_ , it’s just not coming through in your skating.”

Yuri tried not to wheel around, not to bare his teeth and glare. Victor _had_ choreographed a program for Yuri, just like he’d promised. Just like Yuri had made him promise. But it was this stupid, gooey, _pure_ love. It was the sort of thing better suited to children and idiots, like the Japanese Yuri, the pig struggling with _eros_. 

Yuri wished Victor had assigned _eros_ to him; he knows he could skate it, far better than the other Yuri could. He already had female fans - how hard could it be to skate a program based on sensuality? Surely it would be easier than trying to grasp some stupid, intangible concept like selfless love.

Besides, wasn’t love and sex all about getting the other person to fall for you and be yours? It didn’t sound very selfless to Yuri, and no amount of temples would change that. No matter what Victor thought.

Victor. Yuri tried not to grind his teeth again at the thought of him. If he’d just remembered his promise to Yuri in the first place, they wouldn’t even be here. They’d be back in St. Petersburg at their home rink, Victor would be coaching Yuri and there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind who was going to get a gold medal in his first year in the senior division of the Grand Prix. It should have been his season.

It should have been a lot of things.

He’d idolized Victor from the beginning, from the days when he was barely old enough to stand upright on his own skates. He’d started skating because of Victor - a national hero from his own city. He was a star on the ice and captivated the hearts and imaginations of millions. He had the entire world in his hands.

Yuri wanted to feel like that, just once. 

He’d become obsessed with the idea of skating alongside Victor, of catching his eye and captivating him to the point that Victor had no other choice but to coach him and help him become the next powerhouse of figure skating. Victor’s career was basically at its end anyway; Yuri would help him live longer and intertwine their legends.

They would be amazing together.

Then that stupid nobody from Japan had to go and ruin it. And then Yuri found himself in Japan, entirely taken in but determined to get Victor back and get him to come back to Russia. To show him what he was missing.

He needed more than _agape_ to do so.

The idea wouldn’t leave his mind: when he was supposed to be thinking of _agape_ , he found himself instead thinking of ways to better prove to Victor he was the better investment. Not just the better skater but more nuanced and open training than anyone else.

And so he found himself outside Victor’s room at the inn one night, clad only in a shirt three sizes too big for him. He knocked softly on the doorframe, aware of the fact that just down the hall was the Japanese Yuri’s room. He knew the Japanese Yuri idolized Victor too, with his too-obvious gazes when he thought Victor wasn’t looking. 

It was that idot’s own fault he wasn’t willing to grab what he wanted like Yuri was. Yuri - the _right_ Yuri - would get there first. He’d get Victor to come back to him. He would make sure of it.

When Victor opened the door, it was clear he’d just started to fall asleep: his hair was mussed and his eyes were hooded. His pajama pants rode low on his hips, a perfect gateway for Yuri to set his opening move.

He moved in past the doorway, hip brushing against Victor’s as he did and smirking at the bemused look in Victor’s eyes as he tried to place why Yuri would be in the hallway outside his room this late at night.

“I need some help.” It was rare Yuri made plans, so it was thrilling to see them actually work out, to see the unguarded expressions cross Victor’s face: first confusion, then delight, then back to confusion as he tried to piece together what was in front of him.

“I would be more than happy to help, but wouldn’t this be better done in the morning?”

“Not the sort of help I have in mind.” Yuri moved closer, letting one hand reach out to Victor’s hip. “I don’t think this would be very comfortable on the ice.”

He knew when Victor finally caught the thread of what he was implying as heat flashed in his eyes before they cooled and closed off. “Yurio, you don’t mean this. You are simply having a perfectly normal creative block.” He tried to draw away, but Yuri moved in to crowd him against the door. “We can talk through this in the morning when you’ve had a chance to sleep on it.”

“I don’t want to sleep on it, I want to sleep with you.”

Victor’s face drew closed before he breathed out, a light smile the fakeness of Yuri hadn’t seen since his last interview. “Oh! If that’s all, that’s no problem. I can get you a robe and some pants and it’ll be like a sleepover! If you missed having people around like in the dorms, you should’ve just said so!”

Yuri couldn’t suppress the urge to slam his hand against the door. “Don’t play with me; I’m in the senior division now, I’m not a child anymore. You know perfectly well what I mean and what I want and I think you want it too.” He moved forward to further crowd Victor into the door and sure enough, when his hips met Victor’s, there was a slight hardness there to answer his own. 

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing. I remember being your age: you’re young and confused and everything seems like a good idea and you have so many desires, but you don’t have to follow all of them. We can still just go to bed and it’ll all be fine in the morni-”

“No! I know what I want and I won’t let you run away or weasel out of it like you have everything else you’ve promised me. I’ll show you: you made the wrong decision giving _eros_ to that _katsudon_ idiot instead of me.”

With that, he dropped to his knees, hands grabbing at Victor’s pajama pants and grinning sharply at how he felt Victor’s hands go to his shoulders and stay there. They weren’t pulling him in, but they weren’t pushing him away either. Progress.

“Yurio…,” Victor started, before Yuri broke in, growling, “don’t call me that.”

The force of Victor’s sigh actually ruffled his hair, but it meant Victor was looking down at him. Watching him. Yuri’s thumbs started to circle Victor’s hipbones, not stopping even as Victor spoke. “You’re still too young, too new to really get to dictate what your fans will call you, no matter how many years you’ve been in the juniors division. The senior division is a whole new world you’re not ready for yet.”

Each word from Victor’s lips made Yuri want to seal them and keep them from talking, and although he couldn’t do it directly, he knew another way of distracting someone. 

All at once, he pulled down Victor’s pajama pants from where they rested and buried his face in the juncture of thigh and cock, nuzzling at the growing hardness there. He paused, waiting to see what Victor would do, but all he heard was strained breaths, all he felt was fingers digging into his shoulder.

He could do this. No matter who Victor had had before, Yuri was the one on his knees before him now, the one whose slight breathing over Victor’s cock was making his hands tremble and fight against a reaction. 

“I know you remember the dorms. Twelve years isn’t so long ago for that much to have changed. You know the sort of things that happen there, the sort of things you learn,” Yuri said, breathing each word over Victor’s cock and relishing in the tremors they produced. 

“You don’t...know,” Victor hissed out through his teeth and, for a moment, Yuri saw red. Even now, even like this, Victor was trying to tell him he didn’t understand? That he wasn’t old enough? Mature enough? 

“I know plenty.” He’d show Victor. And with that, he darted his head forward and sucked Victor down, as far as he could take.

Immediately, he had to stop himself from going further or pulling back. Victor was nothing like the furtive blowjobs traded in the dorms after lights-out. He was long, longer than Yuri had realized until he was too far to back off. He would _not_ admit defeat. Especially not now that Victor’s hands had moved from his shoulders to his head, still neither pulling nor pushing, and Yuri had to do something so that Victor would make up his mind.

Taking a deep breath to try to calm his racing heart, Yuri pushed forward slightly, hollowing his cheeks to make up for the way his eyes watered when Victor pushed at the back of his throat. He’d do this, and show Victor that he had _eros_ to spare.

He could feel Victor’s hands shake and clench at his hair as he did his best to work Victor’s cock into his mouth, deeper and deeper. 

“Yurio,” he heard from above from, in that tentative, almost gentle tone, and that was _it_ , that was the last straw. He pulled back, glaring up at Victor.

“Stop calling me that! Stop looking down on me, like I’m not as good or won’t surpass you one day! You promised me something that I’m here to collect, no matter what I have to do!” he all but shouted, remembering at the last minute that this wasn’t Russia, with its concrete walls but a house where some of the walls and doors were made of paper. This was going to be _his_ advantage and he’d be damned if he’d give that pig any clue on how to advance.

He’d watched Victor on the ice in both competition and practice, knew how easily he could switch from one emotion to another. He’d always felt it as less of a flow and more of a switch, that deliberate shaping of his presence no less smooth for its drasticness. But nothing prepared him for the way Victor’s eyes sharpened and narrowed or the way Victor’s hand buried in his hair, dragging him forward. He had the briefest moment to think, “ _finally_ ” before he was all but choking on Victor’s cock again.

“If you really think this will help, far be it from me to stop you.” Yuri’s lip would have curled at Victor’s tone if they hadn’t been too stretched wrapped around the length in his mouth. So instead he sucked harder, breathed deeper, tried moving his tongue in lengths he never would have gone for his dormmates. They were pathetic, needing only a few minutes or a few tugs before they’d spend. Nothing like the way Victor murmured, “so eager for it, aren’t you? So eager to do anything to win. So eager and quick to take on the world. So eager to throw yourself away to win.”

Yuri tried to bare his teeth, to warn Victor that he went too far, since the grip of Victor’s hand kept him from pulling off at spitting out a retort himself. But he was stopped by Victor’s hand, so much larger than his own and likely larger than his own would ever be, spanning his throat and cheek, thumb pressing oh-so-lightly on where his Adam’s apple would emerge and become more prominent. He gagged slightly, breathing through his nose as Victor stroked his face. 

“But so good. So delicate, so willing to be shaped and to bend. You could be anything, and you’re choosing to be this. You truly are a wonder, Yuri Plisetsky.”

He knew he was; he’d come here to _prove_ it, but somehow hearing the words, with Victor’s cock in his mouth and his hand in his hair made Yuri shake and close his eyes against the heat there. He’d already been melted down and shaped by so many others; the only one who hadn’t was the one he wanted most to claim him and take him higher. He clung more tightly to Victor’s hips as he tried again to force more down his throat. Finally, Victor pulled his head away, swiping his thumb across Yuri’s bottom lip, which felt so hot and so swollen from being stretched for so long. His jaw hurt, but he welcomed the ache, taking it in as a sign that he was able to meet Victor on the same level and bridge the gap between them. 

“You don’t realize just how lovely you are, do you?” Victor murmured, softly enough that Yuri wondered if he was truly meant to hear that, even as it sent a shiver through him. He wasn’t supposed to be lovely; he was supposed to be fierce, but the image of Victor at 16, eleven years ago, his long hair ethereal and lovely - truly lovely - wouldn’t leave Yuri’s mind. He wanted to be there, be that captivating. He wanted to be even beyond that.

He grabbed Victor’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth as he stood. Even standing, Victor’s gaze was so far away, and Yuri wondered if he’d ever be as tall as Victor was when he reached his growth spurts, wondered how much he’d have to alter his routines and his jump and spin balance to account for gained height and muscle tone. Being short and being tall would both be problems, but for now he was small and lithe and dragging Victor to the bed like a siren.

Yuri fell back on the bed, not even bothering to try and arrange himself in an alluring position but instead pulling Victor down with him with pressing urgency, pulling Victor’s hand down his body, skimming his erection and balls in favor of putting Victor’s fingers at his hole, which he’d cursorily prepared. He knew he wasn’t properly prepared, but if he knew Victor half as well as he thought he did, Victor wouldn’t dare fuck him without preparing him fully and that the lube he’d smeared around his hole would go far in convincing Victor that he was aware of his choices and what he was asking for. He was young, not _stupid_.

If it felt like a victory, a little like landing a jump cleanly, to see the way Victor’s eyes widened and his pupils dilated at the feeling of Yuri’s slick hole, it felt like a fall, a proper sprawl, to feel Victor’s hand pull away and see him shake his head no.

The “why won’t you fuck me, you _bastard_ ,” was almost out of Yuri’s lips before Victor put his hand over his mouth. 

“No,” he said. “No.

“You have practice tomorrow. Have you skated, knowing that every time you lifted your leg, every time you jumped, you would feel the twinge, the ache of having had someone deep inside you before? No. You aren't ready. Not yet.” The firmness in Victor’s tone felt almost like a promise, but Yuri knew what to do with Victor’s promises.

He started to roll out of the bed, angry and hurt, before Victor’s hands clamped down on his wrists. “I said I wouldn’t fuck you, but why are you so eager to give up? Surely you aren’t so young to think that’s the only thing two men can do. I know the dorms can’t have changed so much,” Victor said, his voice washing over Yuri’s red face, stilling his limbs into a semblance of acquiescence masking ignorance. Whatever Victor would do to him, he would take. He would take it and succeed.

He didn’t protest or even react when Victor rolled him to his side, nor when he felt Victor’s hand gather the lubricant he’d tried to prepare with and smear it on the inside of his thighs. Not even when Victor’s cock slipped between them, bumping the back of his sack and sending stars up and down his spine. But when Victor began to thrust shallowly, palming Yuri’s cock at the same time, he couldn’t help but throw his head back. 

“There we go. That’s beautiful. You’re so expressive, so open, but you’re guarding something, aren’t you?” Victor was whispering in his ear, each breath making Yuri shudder and whimper and twist in his grasp, chasing the friction of Victor between his legs and Victor’s hand on his cock.

“When you truly open up on the ice, you’ll captivate everyone. You think you know how to perform on the ice, but no one’s seen this, have they? No one’s seen you let go, how stunning it is when you do.” 

Yuri really wished Victor would stop talking; his blood wouldn’t stop fizzing at every word that poured from Victor’s lips in an unending stream, and it made it impossible to focus, even on the friction he was trying to chase. He could feel himself falling apart, his body trying to contain something too big for it, and he knew he was here for a purpose, for a reason that he couldn’t keep a hold of.

Through the haze, the fractured rainbows he could see dancing behind his scrunched-shut eyes, he could tell Victor was smiling that stupid, know-it-all smile through his tone as he said, “someday you’ll find someone to give you this, to let you express this on and off the ice. They’ll help you let go and reach your potential. They’ll find you this beautiful.”

It was supposed to be you, Yuri tried to say, but the only sound that made it out was a sharp cry as he came, the shock of it ricocheting through him as he curled in on himself and felt Victor follow.

It wiped him out, the anger and frission from earlier washed clean away. He was exhausted, from the skating and the long day and the run after dinner and even though he knew he should stay awake, he couldn’t help but drift off. As he did, he thought he felt Victor stroke his hair, saying, “find those you want to protect and they’ll protect your heart in return. Then you can open up.”

When he came to, he was alone - Victor had wiped him down and pulled the covers up over him. Of course, he was nowhere to be seen. Yuri knew that the idiot had gone to the room where Yuri was supposed to be sleeping, rather than risk waking Yuri carrying him to his room. He kicked out, tangling himself in the covers as he wrapped them and his frustration around himself like a cocoon. 

Victor would regret underestimating him and showing him pity. He’d show him; he’d skate _agape_ better than Victor ever could and he’d still have the best senior debut, no matter what.


End file.
